Beyond Warden Duties
by pani
Summary: Provides a plot between Origins and Awakening. Elissa and Alistair plan to rebuild the Wardens, but the Antivan Crows remain a threat. The price on her head had remained, and together with Zevran they attend the carnival in Orlais to seek out their enemy.
1. From the shadows

_The sequel to my gameplay story, "from riches to rags to riches". This is based on the world of Dragon Age and on it's characters but is furtheron entirely fictional. This story is about Elissa and Alistair who together with Zevran travel to Orlais to secure their dealings with the Antivan Crows. It will also provide a little plot for why Alistair is not available at Vigil's Keep in Awakening when you picked him to remain a Warden._

_This story is based on Bioware's game Dragon Age: Origins. I do not own any of these characters or storylines for they are created by Bioware. Not intended for sale or other than recreational purposes._

_Feel free to comment, I love to hear what you think!_

Val Royeaux appeared to be in flames. Warm colors dominated the scene; rich reds and oranges shaded by luscious shimmers of blue and purple. The narrow streets were lit by colorful paper lanterns, embracing the crowd in a pleasant glow. Above the noise of the merrymakers rose the high-pitched sound of a fiddler, guiding his troops in it's festive march.

The ladies had to lift the hems of their dresses to prevent themselves from tripping; the men boisterously offered them their help. All were herded towards the festivities in the market square, allowing their bodies to be pressed closely together in the narrow streets. The masked Orlesians, nobles and peasants alike, would end up ignoring their boundaries for that single night, allowing spirit drinks, games of chance and foreign hands to take control of them. It was the carnival, after all.

But the back allies of the Orlesian capitol weren't lit by the rosy shimmer of lantern lights. The moon colored the narrow streets a haunting gray, and despite the music and laughter in the distance, all was silent. Dark shadows allowed passers by to find the privacy they sought, and lovers and enemies alike succeeded in escaping the festivities of the grand carnival without ever being missed.

It was here where a young woman slid from shadow to shadow, wrapping the grey cloak carefully around her festive attire. She had spied on the King's Head across the alley for some time, and when two men finally took their leave she took her chance and slid through the screeching door.

The tavern was filled with smoke, the result of many visitors absentmindedly dragging their pipes. Besides the weather-beaten wench leaning across the far end of the bar, the company was solely male. The visitor was careful to avoid starting a conversation, or by the looks of the men - a fight, and kept her hood pulled far over her face when she waved the patron over with her slender hand.

The bearded man leaned over the counter, raising one eyebrow while he slowly rubbed the tankard in his hand with his dirty rag. Although ceasing to show any sign of hospitality, he eventually spoke.

"What's your poison."

His bone pipe hung limply from the corner of his mouth, and a trail of ashes dropped down in the container that inevitably would be used to serve her beverage. Nonetheless the young woman leaned forward towards the patron, unwilling to ignore the man's scorn on her behalf.

"An ale would do."

The patron leaned back and smacked his lips disapprovingly. He did decide to do her the courtesy of holding the tankard upside down before filling it from the cask at the other side of the bar.

When the woman exchanged a final look with the patron before throwing some coin on the counter, she saw a hand reaching for her drink from the corner of her eye. While the bystander noisily gulped down the ale, she remained quiet and played with a copper the patron forgot to collect. She rolled it over her knuckles and waited until the tankard was slammed back on the bar.

"Another one for your friend here?" The patron looked weary but eager to exploit the opportunity, or maybe wishful for the situation to escalate. The woman only gestured for a refill and flipped the coin towards the patron, who caught it with his free hand. She then turned around and spoke while she casually leaned against the counter.

"Thirsty, are you?"

For the first time the man next to her spoke. "Very, thank you. Who could pass on a sip from the King's Head's fine own brew."

The young woman met his eyes, but the elf couldn't stop grinning. "Not in the mood for drinks, I take it? Then let us discuss your next steps."

He inconspicuously reached into the collar of his tunic; the sealed envelope revealed a name in a rich handwriting before he slipped it under the woman's cloak.

"Will I be pretending to be a man? I'm afraid I'm not dressed to the occasion."

"It is _Georgette_ my dear Warden, a common female name in Orlais, or so I have been told. Considering the national take on moral values, I expect bringing a guest will not be a problem."

While the elf spoke the young woman's head turned towards two men that were eyeing them from the corner of the tavern. Only her chin was visible under her overhanging mantle, and her lips pursed to a thin line.

"Do not be nervous Elissa," The elf spoke casually, "All will go according to plan. We will meet at the servant's entrance at the back of the manor, where I will have a carriage waiting."

"And what if I'm not in the mood for a party?" The snide in her remark surprised her, a faint reminder of her life as a noble maiden instead of one of her familiar manners, formed over her time as a Grey Warden. In war, victory. In peace, vigilance. In death, sacrifice. Although her field of work sometimes required less knightly ways, there was no room for malice.

"Your tone of voice does not suit you." The elf spoke bitterly. He too lay his eyes on the two men in the corner, but continued to speak. "You're forgetting I went to great lengths to acquire this formal invitation for you."

Elissa shook her head, and the lips under her hood smiled apologetically. "You're right Zev, I'm sorry. This entire affair has made me nervous. The past has proved the Antivan Crows aren't a matter to be dealt with lightly, and"

Zevran interrupted her openhearted tirade by loudly slapping her bottom and pulling her close with his free arm. His unforeseen mischievous behavior startled Elissa, but before she could fend him off he leaned in as if to kiss her. Instead he whispered in her ear. "They are indeed. Watch your words in these regions, my Warden. We will meet as arranged. Now go."

He readjusted her hood, for a second softly trailing her cheek with his fingertips. Then he gave her a subtle nudge towards the door. Elissa quickly regained her senses; she was familiar with the art of coercion and seduction, but in situations like these she was evidently reminded that her elven friend was not her lesser in the game. She pulled her mantle even deeper over her face and quickly slipped out of the King's Head.


	2. Into the light

**.2 Into the light**

It was a relief to reunite with the dark alleys of Orlais. A haze of smoke trailed after her when Elissa finally left the shady tavern. She was careful to wrap herself deep inside her cloak before she listened carefully and wandered towards the noise in the distance, eager to mingle with the anonymous crowd.

Besides the occasional outcry over the monotonous rumble of voices ahead, all was silent besides the ticking of her high heeled boots. With a pang of guilt she was reminded of her old travelling companion; Leliana would have loved the pale rose shoes Zevran had arranged for her, laced and tied to her calf in an ornate fashion. Willing as they were, she and Leliana had often ceased to meet in opinions, footwear being no exception. The clicking of her heels made her feel like a stomping horse, making her retreat all but inconspicuous.

Elissa was careful not to be followed; her fellow assassin had reminded her of the danger their current mission held in store, and the two men that had caught their attention earlier could have very well been spies. The Antivan Crows had proved to hold residence in Val Royeaux; a suitable base for those looking to kill for major coin. Unfortunately their hunger for profit seemed exactly what caused her prolonged dealings with the order. Despite the death of teyrn Loghain several men had taken an attempt to rob her of her life, stating the obvious fact that the Crows held to their contracts, either misinformed about the lack of future payment or out for honor and glory among their ranks. A growing inconvenience, that had to be taken care of.

The warm glow from the festivities started to stretch across the wet cobblestones of the alley, causing Elissa to sigh in relief. The smell of bonfires drifted on the humid breeze; there was rain in the air, but judging by the brawly noises up ahead Elissa didn't expect the crowd to be bothered by something trivial like the weather. Besides the single dark silhouette slipping around the corner, everyone moved forward in a dense row. Eagerly bridging the last steps she took off her hood and threw the cloak over her shoulders, trading what made her indistinct in the backstreets for what would easily cause her to blend in with the pressing throng ahead of her.

When a dark figure pressed her up against the wall she was sooner filled with annoyance than worry. She had no time to deal with pickpockets, especially not in a crowded place where her solution would cause attention. When a raspy voice whispered to her she froze. "A straggler, excellent." The hooded man sniffed her neck before he reached for her waist.

She struggled to reach the hidden knife in her garter, but the man seemed too strong for her to succeed. Instead he took the opportunity to open her legs with his knees and force his body close to hers. Worse than a common thief, but at least not an Antivan Crow. Elissa was caught by surprise and his pressing was eager, his body broad and muscular. Familiar. She struggled her hands free and grabbed the hood covering her attacker's face, jerking it back with force. When a toothy smile lit the alley her body became limp in his grip.

"That is not funny."

"Sure it was, you should have seen your face!"

Alistair hindered her when she tried to free herself from his grasp under fervently muttered curses. With little effort he pinned her closer to the wall, eventually causing Elissa to sigh defiantly. Satisfied with the outcome Alistair lifted her chin with his finger and softly brushed his lips against hers, welcoming the response from the woman in his arms. He smirked before he lovingly caressed her cheek. "Every other woman would have screamed."

Elissa seemed reminded of the situation that had brought them to Orlais in the first place and responded heatedly before she was interrupted. "There's a price on my head, I can not permit"

"Every other woman would have called for help." His voice sounded accusative now and Elissa turned her head away before she spoke.

"Well, I'm not every other woman."

There was a definite sadness in her tone that washed the grin off his face. Alistair loosened his grip slowly until her feet reached the floor. She didn't meet his eyes while she quickly brushed the dust from her festive attire, creating a rare uncomfortable silence. All the while Alistair's eyes were set at the passing line of people, oblivious to their presence or squabble. Unaware of the turmoil that would be caused that night.

"That, you aren't."

Alistair took her hand and pulled her closer, bridging the distance between them with a regretful hesitation. Elissa allowed him to unclasp the cloak under her chin, slipping the heavy fabric from her shoulders, leaving them bare to the pressing night. He then reached into his tunic, revealing a richly decorated mask. He carefully fitted it over her nose and eyes, pressing it gently into place before tying the ribbons at the back of her head. Then he kissed her again, sweetly first, sealing her lips with a sudden urgency before they broke apart. He put the mask from his forehead to his face before he took Elissa's hand and guided her towards the pressing crowd. They had a schedule to keep.


	3. Down memory lane

**.3 Down memory lane**

"Do we have a tail?" She heard Alistair murmur through pursed lips. Elissa shook her head while she continued her casual stroll, her hand lightly touching the forearm he had presented her earlier. "The green mantle in the square might have been out for your pouch, because when he noticed the weapon under your cloak he disappeared."

"He probably realized he wouldn't stand a chance." Alistair spoke while he made sure his sword remained well hidden under his cloak. "And that mine is bigger than his, of course."

Elissa sighed reproachfully but couldn't hide her smirk from him. "Or that it's odd for a civilian to carry a two-hander around during the carnival."

"Yes, or that." Alistair sounded thoughtful. "Which is exactly why our ways will have to part."

In front of them towered a three story manor, separated from the street by a long-stretched symmetrical garden, lit by numerous spitting torches. The entrance was obscured by two similarly dressed men to check the written invitations, masked to tradition but obviously armed to fend off anyone who they considered unwelcome.

"I'd rather look for another way in."

Elissa nodded in agreement, continuing her pace. "I will see you inside then. Don't take long." She gently squeezed his hand before they were forced to break apart. The slipping of her fingers from his grasp felt disheartening. She couldn't help but yearningly eye his disappearing figure slipping into the darkness of the alley left of her. While his footsteps died away she took a deep gulp of air before she forced a smile around her lips and pulled the invitation from her bodice.

The stolen invitation raised no questions, and from Zevran's preparations she had expected nothing less. Yet when Elissa moved through the torch-lit garden uncourted a feeling of familiarity washed over her, replacing the anxiety to start her mission alone with a deeper feeling of discomfort.

It might have been the first time she was dressed like an Orlesian noblewoman; the rustling of her skirts and the atmosphere of her surroundings reminded her of home. Highever. Where she was born and raised, where she had attended numerous balls in the honor of her father's guests, the citadel where she had always managed to find a hiding place when the formalities of such an event had bored her. The home where she had lost her loved ones because a family friend betrayed them, where she had to leave her parents behind to ceaselessly take a stand against the invaders. Where an old friend had to physically drag her out of the castle to join the Grey Wardens, and not seek revenge but atonement.

What would Duncan say if he knew they were out to slay for personal gain? To make their enemies meet the same destiny as did Rendon Howe?

Elissa focused on the increasing feeling of void building up inside her chest. It rarely felt unbearable, but an inescapable offense of grief wasn't what she was willing to cope with, not now, not then. Again she took a remedial deep breath, pushed her bosom a little higher and decided to use the memories of her noble heritage to her advantage. She corrected her posture and nodded elegantly when two servants opened the double doors for her, leading to the festivities.

Only now Elissa realized exactly how far she was from what she considered home. The warm air that blew into her face was not only scented with what she recognized to be lilies, but was also heavily impregnated with the dark wine that was brewed in the hills of Arlesans. Yet fortunately the party seemed informal despite their expectations. This was proved not only by the frivolous consumption of spirits but also by the cease of the servants to officially announce her appearance, like was customary at similar get togethers.

In fact her belated arrival was an introduction at itself. As soon as the doors were closed every pair of eyes in the room rested on her, and although Elissa knew herself to be unrecognizable due to the mask over her eyes she felt the situation was incredibly precarious. Her sight slid across the ornately decorated room while she heard the voices around her fall silent one by one, dwelling on a lady kneeled on top of a side table, a man staring at her with an opened mouth while the woman next to him accusatively glared at him. Finally her eyes turned to the tips of her shoes, standing at the white marble floor underneath her.

The silence was pressing.

Elissa felt her breathing increase. The bodice that was tightly laced behind her back felt more uncomfortable than ever, and she wished she would have been able to take off her mask to wipe the sweat of her brow. Unable to think of what to do or say, she slowly reached for the hems of her dress and lightly pinched the fabric between two fingers. Then she slowly bent her knees and rested her chin on her chest. Curtsying as for a King, not for the attendants of a masked ball she was visiting for her own benefits in the capitol of Orlais.

The effect of her response was overwhelming; the silence changed into a welcome laughter. Immediately she found herself closed in the arms of a man dressed in rich burgundy velvet, while another pressed a goblet into her hand, spilling half of the contents on the floor. Elissa's smile of relief was easily mistaken for a joyous response and she had no problem rediscovering the empty charms she had made her own during her upbringing.

Soon it seemed a ball like any other. A ball where she too would find the opportunity to escape the formalities for a different purpose.


	4. The path of contemplation

_It has literally been ages since I wrote, but I feel inspiration to get this story going again! I hope you'll enjoy it! Feel free to leave me comments, they actually keep me going and inspire me to continue!_

**.4 The path of destruction**

How flamboyantly oblivious the Orlesian nobility appeared to be. Elissa's hand was passed from left to right, while she herself carefully scanned the room for someone to meet the description Zevran had given her.

Although her accent and manners arose questions it didn't cause suspicion. 'I must ask about your hairdo my dear, you wear it with an admirable nonchalance, do I sense the signature of my own coiffeur?' and 'Dare I ask where you reside, because the contemporary inn is not up to standard since that awful murder has taken place.'. Elissa managed to answer with words more meaningless than she could imagine making them up, and yet never ceased to leave her audience behind with a satisfied grin.

It seemed to Elissa she was considered a foreign treat, a scarcity to entertain. Her appearance caused a glorious foxhunt the Orlesian nobles would never be able to solve because the richly flowing wine would entice their memories only until the morning light.

Or from the second she disappeared from their sight.

She slipped down the hallway leading to the second floor as soon as the opportunity arose, leaving behind the older gentleman who had transparently started to subject the tailoring of her dress to a closer inspection.

The corridor was more quiet, but all but empty. Men and women who met similar expectations for the night were entwined shamelessly against the paneled walls, and even across the steps of the stairs leading to the second floor. Elissa was careful not to catch anyone's attention. Besides a young woman looking right through her in a passion or wine induced stare, she succeeded.

The hall that followed was deserted. No lamps were lit, and the torches that brunt so vividly outside didn't seem to be able to warm the cold interior with their glow. Several battered suits of armor stood against the walls in an honorary formation, but overall there were no signs of the ornate embellishments the Orlesians took their pride in.

It only underlined the façade Zevran had described her to find.

The day her elven friend had offered a solution to their increasing problems with the Crows seemed distant after the long journey they experienced from Ferelden to the capitol of Orlais. Still, his words chimed through her head like a soothing lullaby.

"_I take these complications with my former kin are starting to bother you, my dear Warden." _His face had been painted with the careless charm she got to know so well during their recent travels. That she and him had both been attacked that day during a trip to the Denerim market didn't seem to impress him in the slightest. Alistair, who sat next to her during this informal meeting, was almost trembling with anger when his friend relived the predicament of that day. Zevran continued seemingly unconcerned.

"_I have given it some thought since it became obvious the Crows haven't ceased their hunt on you. I have a plan, a daring one to say the least, that might rid you from similar occurrences once and for all." _

That the plan had been daring was an understatement. Paying Val Royeaux a visit during the largest gathering of Antivan Crows of the year seemed foolish. Then again, as Zevran pointed out, the element of surprise can prove to be a fatal cut.

As soon as Elissa closed the heavy double doors behind her, the hall seemed still as a tomb. The heavily carpeted floor absorbed her every sound, and only the heaving of her chest reminded her that she was still amongst the living. Ignoring the urge to crouch she steadily walked through the lane of silent guardians.

The atmosphere of the dim hall was haunting, and despite the increasing danger she felt herself in she was relieved to hear a murmur of voices from behind the single door ahead of her. She slowly walked forward, mustering her courage and trying to remember everything Zevran had told her.

Before she was able to form a solid plan to explain her entrance, the door flew open.


	5. The meeting

**.5 The meeting**

Menacing eyes looked her up and down, and for a moment Elissa wasn't sure whether to pull her weapons or to run. When she reminded herself she was still wearing her carnival mask, she decided to play her part. She stood still in her footsteps, and only moments later the gloved hand grabbed her shoulder to pull her inside.

Being slightly shorter than her, his presence seemed to fill up the room. His irises were a beautiful but piercing grey. It took Elissa what seemed moments to notice that his left eye had been cut open towards his cheek; soft rims of flesh curled outward, revealing peach colored scar tissue that led all the way to his jaw. His frightening appearance was oddly balanced out with his beauty, and the provocative smirk that played around his lips.

"_The crows tend to pick elves to join their ranks, because they are considered beautiful by humans. You can imagine the advantage this has in our profession." _

Zevran's voice seemed to cast off the spell she was under. This was not the time to seem conspicuous. She smiled and pulled her gaze off her captor's face, looking over his shoulder to determine the source of the conversation.

In the middle of the room, close to a large window overlooking the garden, stood a short plump man winged by two Antivan guards. On closer inspection Elissa noticed they were dressed similarly to the elf that let her in, and carried a comparable scarred appearance.

The Orlesian nobleman looked as nervous as he sounded, his face and neck covered in a fright or liqor stricken blotch. Obviously opposing little threat, the men hazardously intruding his personal boundaries must have been aiming to show him that at this time, their guest was not the authority. Needless to say, they succeeded with little effort.

His word was directed to a delegation of people casually leaning against the walls or on the furniture. One of them was a rugged looking man who intently listened to the story. His posture revealed an unmistakable hint of awareness of his surroundings, yet he ceased to pay his new visitor any attention.

His crossed arms were broad, broader than those of the male elf cautiously standing by his side and almost looking disproportionate to those of the small elven girl dressed in a similar tan leather as her fellows, standing a few feet away from the only chair in the room occupied by a more stately woman dressed in red. She seemed bored, and looked to be one of the guests who accidentally wandered into the situation but didn't seem to be able to find an excuse to go back and mingle with her kind downstairs. She held an embroidered fan, once she flipped out as soon as she noticed Elissa glancing at her. The woman's matters reminded her of those of what the Orlesians call a maitresse, a woman to accompany one man besides his marriage or several working in a whore house.

Elissa quickly looked away, finding herself captured into the piercing eyes of her elven guard once more. She had to remind herself it would be impossible for him to recognize her; with the mask covering most of her face and wearing an entirely different attire, the description that would have been used to distinguish her as their target couldn't have been more off. Yet the penetrating observance she felt subjected to now was exactly the reason Zevran had taken a massive share in the planning, but would be waiting for her at the servant's entrance without being at risk to be recognized as a former member.

His eyes didn't rest on her but darted across her features, allowing the same smirk to return to his face. Being recognized or no, Elissa started to feel uncomfortable nonetheless. Without moving his glance he eventually spoke.

"Master, it seems a new client has made her appearance."

The rugged man did not bother to look up when he answered, either. "We're almost done here."

The nobleman had taken the opportunity to pull out a handkerchief and wiped his brow, but when silence fell in again he continued his nervous babbling. Elissa folded her hands and looked down politely as befitted a young noblewoman, not for the least to avoid the piercing eyes of the elf still standing in front of her. His breath made the loose strands of her hair brush across her shoulders, and when she stole another look from his face she reminded herself that she should not get easily intimidated at this early stage. Instead she focused on the task at hand.

"_The leader of the Crows," _Zevran's words sounded through her head, _"is unknown to most of it's members, for the obvious reasons considering the order's questionable loyalty. Nonetheless there are near to never reasons valid enough to take our aim at our master, simply because he alone manages the contracts and therefore the payment we earn for our services."_

What Zevran had stated next during their meeting in Denerim that now seemed a distant memory, was what made them undertake the journey that brought her here in this dangerously crowded study.

"_You see, when the leader of the Crows is assassinated, all current contracts are inescapably lost. Including whatever price remains on your head."_

Elissa was shaken from her train of thought when the now heavily sweating nobleman approached her. She swiftly stepped aside and watched as his short legs carried him through the corridor as fast as they could manage. Her vision finally got obscured by the door that closed behind him, leaving the only person that brought her the slightest sense of reassurance time to escape whatever would come next.


	6. A confrontation of consequence

**.6 A confrontation of consequence**

Elissa turned around, and urged her lips to pull together in a playful pout. The room was silent now but not all eyes were set on her; only the broad shouldered man now crossed his arms and waited for her to make an introduction, accompanied by the two menacing sentinels who seemed to find enjoyment in the prospect of giving her the same treatment as her predecessor.

The piercing eyes of the elven guard stung in Elissa's back as she stepped forward, relying on the curtsying that had broken the tension when she made her appearance at the party.

In a secluded room filled with Antivan Crows, it did not.

"_Once every year, during the grand Carnival in Val Royeaux, the Crows find themselves available to receive assignments from the well paying Orlesian nobility." _Zevran's words had guided her so far; Elissa decided to rely on them once more.

"I understood that I find myself in the scarce opportunity to place a request with the Antivan Crows."

"_It is rumored that the leader of the Crows takes this opportunity to enjoy the festival, and this year should be no exception." _

"And where would someone like yourself get such information?"

Elissa felt the blood drain from her cheeks. Not only from the voice belonging to the scarred rogue speaking in her ear, but also because of his answer, possibly drenched in double meaning.

"From a friend, of course."

She wished Zevran had provided her elaborate costume with a fan. The lady in the corner seemed to vent her emotions off with hers quite well.

"Naturally. It is by those means how word travels of surreptitious meetings, beyond our borders and much further."

The rugged man now stood up from his leaning position, revealing his full length and impressive posture. Elissa noticed the sword and dagger hanging from his belt, not unlike the ones Zevran used to wield before she provided him with a better set of weapons. She slowly ran her hands along her dress to feel the reassurance of the knives hidden in her garters.

"So, why is it you came, mademoiselle…"

The man paused politely with a hand gesture to Elissa, indicating she was to introduce herself properly.

"Des la Croix. Georgette des la Croix." Repeating the name on the invitation that was provided to her, she perfunctory added a small bow which caused snickering to arise from the man still standing closely behind her. The man in front of her joined in with a low chuckle, his broad shoulders shaking under the humor she apparently induced.

"You are aware, mademoiselle des la Croix, that your accent is anything but Orlesian."

Elissa was surprised by the credibility of her own bluffing. "Of course you of all people are aware, dear ser, that it is not unthinkable to rely on another name when the situation requires so."

The amusement died out immediately, leaving the delegate silent with an expression which could be interpreted as being convinced, with maybe a hint of respect.

This was the moment when the seated lady stood up, folding her fan to tuck it up her sleeve. Her eyes finally met Elissa's, and the reserved look she had recognized as being one of class changed into a hard stare.

"So it does. And what imminently holds the situation you have brought yourself into? Alone?"

Before Elissa could answer she noticed the man she had considered her target submissively retreat from the center of the room. The woman against all her expectations, continued.

"You say you are here to reward a price on someone's head, while to me it seems you have given us the opportunity to finally settle the one that has been on yours, Elissa Cousland."

At that moment she felt the ragged breath of her scarred attacker down her neck, together with the sharp of his short sword. The remaining parts of him were pressed against her back, and the menacing snicker she had been glad to silence earlier filled the room once more. The mask was crudely ripped from her face, revealing her surprised expression as well as her features to the rest of the room.

Elissa took a deep breath and tensioned her body to make her escape. Her attacker seemed to enjoy himself, tightening his grip around her and pressing the blade and his body closer to her flesh. The woman remained in the corner, a crude smile playing across her lips. With a gesture of her hand she ordered the inevitable. The cold eyes of the leader of the Crows would be the last Elissa would see before they'd slit her throat.

Suddenly the spectators that had waited for the elf's ordeal moved forward.

Elissa must have closed her eyes, because when she opened them none of them where in her sight, and the pressing of the knife against her skin had disappeared. She dropped into a crouch, reaching for the twin blades hidden under her dress. Behind her she heard the trusted battle calls of her love, strengthening her for her own fight.

She leaped forward, careful not to trip over her skirts while she grabbed the sword hand of the slender elf protecting her mistress, plunging one of her daggers in the unprotected flesh of her abdomen. Before the elf sunk to the ground Elissa caught the eyes of the woman in red, assuring her with a single glance that it would not be her that would settle the score that day.

The woman seemed unconcerned, but her smile had faded. She sat down slowly in the chair she had occupied earlier, turning the palms of her hands upwards in a sign of surrender.

Before Elissa could contemplate the gesture she felt the skin of her back tear under the weight of what appeared to be a badly aimed blow.

In one single movement she turned around to cut down the grey eyed elf, completing the circle by slitting the Crow master's neck so deep it nearly hewn her head off.


	7. An unfortunate escape

**.7 An unfortunate escape**

"Are you alright?" Alistair's voice called from across the room just after he had ridden himself from his last attacker.

Not used to the tone of voice he used on her Elissa regained her attention. She looked her dress over for tears and patted the bare skin of her cleavage and shoulders. Ceasing to find any sources of hurt, she found that the blood that had splattered her was not her own.

"Yes, yes," She called heatedly while she ducked to search the body of the woman in red, as if hoping to find any evidence of a physical contract to destroy. Besides a heavy purse filled with sovereigns she found nothing. She shook the body as to release it from further hidden possessions until Alistair stopped her.

"It's done now Elissa," His soothing voice spoke in her ear. "It's over. And we have to leave, immediately."

It seemed the relief of finding and slaying the culprit of her assassination attempts had made her lightheaded. When Elissa didn't immediately comply Alistair urged her forward, pulling her wrist all the way down the unlit hall. When they reached the door barring them from the other visitors his eyes regained a hard focus Elissa found surprisingly amusing, first determinedly pulling his twohander, only to lower it again just before he stormed ahead of her down the stairs.

Elissa followed him without hesitation but could not help but escape a giggle that soon turned into laughter. Alistair jumped up the steps to collect her, sporting an annoyed smirk while he supported her around the waist. "What has gotten into you?" He murmured decidedly, dragging her through the all but deserted corridor at the best speed he could muster.

Unsurprising enough, the partygoers they encountered were too infatuated with themselves or their company to notice anything off. When they had reached the entrance to the kitchen however, one of the servants called out in horror.

"Madame, your dress, it is…"

Instantly they caught the attention of bystanders, looking pleasant at first. Soon one woman dropped her goblet and started screaming. Elissa looked down guiltily, padding her blood splattered skin until Alistair caught her by the wrist and dragged her towards the servants entrance. Only the heavily mustached cook seemed brave enough to try to prevent their escape, but he ended the chase as soon as he decided his butcher knife would be no match to Alistair's knightly physique and weaponry.

When they reached the back alley Alistair threw the door shut behind him and leaned against it heavily. In front of him stood a carriage, more moderate looking than the ones they had noticed earlier that night, but roomy enough to fit two passengers in the enclosed coach. Zevran sat at the reins, smiling smugly.

"You are back I see, and judging by the sound of it, you have made a spectacular retreat."

He was referring to the increasing screaming inside. Alistair put all his focus on obscuring the door in case the cook or anyone else would prove brave enough to follow suit.

"I am afraid you still have a lot to learn my dear Elissa," The elf continued unconcerned while he jumped off the rider's seat and walked around the carriage to open the door for them, "The shady duo at the King's Head were indeed spies for the Crows. Of course I prevented them from bringing the message of our arrival to their master, but a more cautious approach in the future would prevent me from running additional errands."

"However their presence at the tavern only proves that the Crows have men stationed around town during their visit. Therefore I deem it best to leave as soon as possible. Your carriage is waiting, madame."

He swung the coach door open in a blasé manner, gesturing Elissa to make her entrance. Seemingly undisturbed by the still increasing panic inside of the manor that was now accompanied by a male voice calling out murder he repeated his flamboyant wave when she did not respond.

"What is the matter?"

Alistair was now leaning his full weight against the door, and with the screaming also the thumping against the wood had increased. Elissa was slumping against the wall, the stare in her eyes turning blank.

"Our little lady Cousland seemed to have taken a couple of sips of liquid courage at the party," He spoke with difficulty. "She's been impossible since the fight."

Zevran walked up to her, ignoring the crashing from the kitchen that started to shift Alistair's weight under the pressure. "Has she been hurt?"

"A scratch, maybe." Alistair huffed under the force he withstood. "She held her own, as usual. But what about getting the hell away from here?"

He looked over his shoulder and observed Zevran crudely grabbing Elissa's jaw. He turned her face from side to side, examining it with a severity that worried him. He felt his limbs go numb when Zevran had to pull her up and carry her into the carriage.

"We have to hurry," He exclaimed while he sprinted back to compensate the weight that Alistair refrained on the now cracking door. He took the templar's sword and shoved the massive blade between the crack near the hinges, providing them only seconds for their escape.

Alistair hesitantly walked towards the carriage, his eyes showing alarm and disbelief but not being able to fully grasp the situation.

"Of course we do."

Zevran ran back to the carriage and agilely grabbed the reins before putting it into movement in a sudden haste.

"She has been poisoned."


	8. The dividing of tasks

**.8 The dividing of tasks**

As soon as the carriage was set in motion Alistair practically toppled over. The narrow bench was mostly occupied by Elissa's limp body, dangerously shaking under the rattling of the wooden cartwheels. Without hesitation he heaved her into his lap and supported her head against his shoulder, fervently wiping the now moist waves of hair from her forehead.

"Elissa, it's time to wake up," He whispered to her. When she ceased to respond he stroked her forehead more rigorously, repeating the exact words he had spoken to her that same morning.

"_It's time to wake up love," _

_Elissa stirred under the feather duvet, only showing her stretched hands slipping across the mattress in a catlike stretching session. Alistair could not help but throw the covers off the bed, revealing the young woman in her bare glory._

_Her tousled hair stood in all directions, like a golden halo in the sunlight protruding the sheer curtains in their room in the outskirts of Val Royeaux. A little sunshine had done her well, blushing her skin like an apricot and bringing out the few freckles she sported around her nose which she absolutely hated, but he absolutely adored. _

_It took her mere seconds to crawl into his grasp, covering him in little kisses and making little pecking sounds. _

"_I could get used to this, you know."_

_He noticed that his voice sound low and husky, but pleasant and relaxed. He could get used to that, too. _

"_Waking up next to me or waking up in Orlesian luxury?" Elissa purred while tenderly caressing the silky sheets. She had never complained about the lack of splendor during their travels, despite what she had been used to before she was forced to leave her elderly home. Now she was simple reveling in it, and it amused him to no end. _

"_I would never take waking up next to the woman I love for granted."_

"_I think no one would ever will," Zevran's voice sounded from the double doors towards the balcony. Although they had vouched for separate rooms despite how they were used travelling together and thus sleeping in close vicinity of one another, the elven rogue had found a way to avoid using the hallway and their locked door. _

_The assassin could not pick a lock if his life depended on it, but trust him to find another mischievous way to disturb their privacy. _

_Alistair's bitterness was hardly contained, and to his disappointment Elissa seemed happily surprised to find the intruder in their room. While Alistair quickly covered them under a sheet she clapped excitedly._

"_Are you going to do my hair now? It has sure been a while!"_

"_I will not claim to possess the nimble fingers of a barber, but I have picked up a thing or two redoing a woman's hair when physical labor unintentionally caused it to mess up, so to speak." _

_He then unceremoniously emptied a pouch of jewelry on the dressoir, which included several combs and hairpins. He pulled up the stool from the vanity and patted it invitingly with his hand. _

_Elissa got up, wrapping the single sheet closely around her before she sat down. Alistair hardly mustered a smile before he reached for his pants, scattered across the floor from their nightly arrival. _

_Then he stood up and walked up to his companions, chattering away like they were at a tea party, not in the prospect of events to come. He absentmindedly pulled the sheet wrapped around Elissa a little higher before he spoke._

"_Are you sure this is a good plan?"_

_Elissa seemed surprised by the sincerity in his voice, but Zevran replied in his usual unconcerned tone. "It is the best opportunity we will get. Also, Elissa will be fine, as usual. The master of the Crows might be the head of a formidable order, but he is no arch demon." _

_She smiled upon his sign of confidence, but Alistair noticed at least she was also captivated by a healthy dose of nerves. _

"_I will trust you. For now." _

_Upon Alistair's words she stood up and pressed herself close to his chest, sighing excitedly. _

Less than a day later, her face was covered in a sickly green glow and her breathing had turned shallow. Alistair started to undo the lace in the front of her bodice, desperately trying to make her more comfortable. All the while Elissa's head hauntingly lolled to the side while Alistair did the best to support it and be of any other assistance in the matter.

"How can she be poisoned!" He yelled in sheer anger, forcefully yanking the lace that was by now caked in blood.

"Smell her breath," The elf called decidedly from the rider's seat, just before he forced the horses to make a sharp turn to the left.

Alistair cautiously leaned over Elissa's face, parting her lips with his thumb. Her breath smelled sweet, unaffected by anything he deemed poisonous. The familiarity of her scent caused him a sharp pang of guilt.

He should have known this would all end badly.

"What am I looking for?" He cried out in desperation, kicking the wooden paneling of the carriage in vigor to demand an answer from the elf at the reins.

The door swung open, and without comment Zevran pulled her out of the carriage into his arms. They had stopped, and this unexpected outcome made Alistair's head spin for a moment.

The elf again turned her face from side to side, eventually pulling her chin down to taste her breath. He then decidedly pushed the woman back into Alistair's arms and grabbed his dagger to cut the strings of her bodice.

Alistair felt compelled to object when the rogue started to cut away her garments, but Zevran's unusually urgent conduct silenced any reluctance that arose. Eventually she was left in a peach colored underdress when the elf roughly turned her back towards him. His face relaxed then, but his eyes did not lose it's severity.

"Just a scratch, you said?"

He closely studied Elissa's back while Alistair maneuvered her in a way he could see what the elf was talking about.

"Well it is just a scratch, right? By the Maker, I expected you to find something much worse."

"You fool!" Zevran called out heatedly while he hoisted her up and walked her down a narrow trail the templar had not noticed before. He followed them closely, determined not to let her out of his sight. Realizing that this seemingly harmless cut was the cause of Elissa's condition he decided to ask no further but start the counter attack.

"Fool? Me! Weren't you the one sending her off into your master's lair unaccompanied, bringing her in harm's way in the first place?"

To Alistair's surprise the elf managed to carry the woman in his arms at a breakneck speed, and still managed to throw him a malevolent glance.

"Weren't you the one asking for a solution to your problems? To rely on my knowledge as an Antivan Crow? Well this is what I knew and it near well worked out for your benefit, if you would have kept a closer eye on her!" 

"A closer eye? Do you have any idea what it caused me to let her go in by herself? And that scar faced elf panting down her neck half the time, it took me everything not to…"

Alistair spat out the bile that collected in his mouth before he indignantly turned Zevran around in his footsteps, determined to smack him in the face and take over to carry the woman he loved, in no particular order. Yet when he met his glance the malice was overshadowed by intense worry.

"Take the carriage. Follow the Imperial road north and go west at the fork; make haste and don't stop for the night; I can guarantee you will be followed. Lose the coach in the woods, take three of the horses and return by travelling through Val Foret."

"Why can't you…"

"Because circumstances are different now!" Zevran hissed. He turned around and kicked open the door of a wooden shack Alistair did not even remember reaching. A musty smell wafted into his face while the elf carried the still unconscious Elissa in and gently slipped her to the ground.

When he made sure she would be comfortable, he stood up and pushed Alistair in front of him, back across the trail. After one last heartbreaking look at the wounded woman he allowed the elf to guide him back to the road, where the carriage and the damping horses were waiting for their new mender. Zevran jumped into the coach and retrieved what Alistair recognized as his pack from under the bench, slinging it over his shoulder before he spoke.

"Follow the…"

"Imperial road north, west at the fork, lose carriage. Travel back through Val Forray."

"Foret. The 't' is silent but that is what will be written on the road markers." Zevran spoke at an annoyed tone. "Remember this spot, I will be too occupied healing your fellow Warden to come and look for you if you get lost."

Alistair nodded as the knowledge that he had to let Elissa out of his sight again sank in. Suddenly his legs felt heavy, like they too objected at the prospect of riding off while his wounded partner stayed behind.

He turned to the elf before he climbed the carriage. "I… Take care of her. I will atone for my mistakes, anything, if only it will make her better."

Zevran jerked his chin towards the road, urging him to make haste in aggravation. Yet when he handed him the reigns Alistair could hear a soft murmur escape his lips.

"We will decide who of us has to atone when you return."


	9. Sickening revelations

_My apologies to my regular readers for making an alteration in the order of the chapters; it seemed more suitable to describe Alistair's ordeal before Elissa's, despite the fact I posted the latter earlier. This is why you might have already read the next chapter. _

_I'd like to invite those who enjoy my story to leave a comment or a message; your support really feeds my enthusiasm to write and continue!_

**.9 Sickening revelations**

Although Alistair never rode a span before, urgency thought him the better of it sooner than he expected. Compelling the horses to reach their limit he felt he was making a good effort at prolonging the distance between him and his pursuers, or at least maintain whatever lead Zevran had provided him.

After some time the horizon started to brighten in await of a new day. Still Alistair urged on in a seething gallop, strengthened by the image of Elissa's unconscious figure carved into his mind. He felt a sharp pang of guilt every time he realized she had been poisoned right under his eyes, but every sound, every turn in the road and every lone traveler he came across provided a wary distraction.

One thing he was certain of: He would get the task done as fast as the steeds permitted him. Yet it wasn't until the sun was setting again that he reached the forests his elven companion had described to him.

In the woods, the previous night in Val Royeaux seemed a distant memory.

Required to slow down while travelling the even forest path, Alistair finally felt his shoulders slump. He could sleep for a day, and a night too if he'd permit himself. When he felt his eyelids weigh down he forcefully shook his head and looked up at the single patch of sky visible through the foliage. The day was turning into night, accompanied by it's haunting shades of violet and blue. And the narrow path in front of him curved on and on, in front and a good distance behind him.

"_Just a scratch, you said?" _

Alistair heard the elf's stinging voice pierce his thoughts. Shamefully he reviewed the image of the cut across Elissa's revealed back, while her figure hung limply in his arms. His thoughts seemed real, like a vision; he fought the overwhelming disappointment and grief when he realized his grasp was empty but the reins in his hand.

He should have noticed. He should have known right away. 'Lady Cousland might have taken a sip of liquid courage'. Alistair silently cursed himself for being so unobservant. Wasn't he the one who always pressed she in particular had to be careful? Wasn't he the one who said she'd always be under his watchful eye?

Wallowing in guilt he was objected to the narrow path ahead, leading him and the carriage alike into the concealing darkness. He wasn't sure how he would be able to redeem himself. But it could only be his focus after he completed this task.

~.~.~.~

"_Alistair, sit with me."_

_The elf's words had surprised him, but Alistair did not hesitate to slump down against the log at the spot Zevran had offered him. They had never talked much and despite their kinship in battle, their relationship seemed to be built on a mutual coolness. _

_Even now they lacked the ability to naturally start a conversation. They both stared at the campfire in the distance where their travelling companions sat, sharing that night's roast under lighthearted banter. _

_They had just retrieved the ashes of Andraste and they were a day's journey from Redcliffe: The prospect of healing the Arl and making the first ally on their quest of collecting the Warden armies had been a valid reason for joy. Elissa in particular seemed cheerful; her story came accompanied by animated gestures, and the pun proved amusing enough to even have Sten crack a grin. _

_Her genuine charm appealed to many, including himself, Alistair thought with an affectionate smile. And obviously, also to the elf sitting next to him. He followed his gaze and like he expected, his face showed a familiar infatuation. Just when Alistair opened his mouth, Zevran spoke._

"_It has come to my attention that your fondness for your fellow Grey Warden goes beyond camaraderie, Alistair."_

_The latter was surprised by the elf's direct approach, and answered defensively._

"_Why would you say that?"_

"_Ah Alistair, I have an eye for these things. Not only has she been fingering that rose of yours when she thinks nobody is watching, but I have also seen you exchange, pleasantries, recently."_

_Alistair blushed. He had noticed how tenderly she carried his gift in her pack, but he didn't know she cherished it as much as Zevran had just described. Also, he realized the elf was aiming at the kiss they exchanged not long ago. He would have hoped nobody would have seen them, but now he found out his rival has he could not help but escape a wicked grin. He knew better than to compose himself before he spoke._

"_Your point?"_

"_Don't get me wrong, Ser templar," The assassin spoke apologetically, "I only wonder whether your mutual interest is based on passion, or surely on something more." _

_Alistair remained silent for a moment, surprised by the genuine modesty in his words. The sharp edges of Zevran's earlier comments had turned blunt, and even his face looked expecting, if not slightly self-conscious. He hesitated before he decided to speak. The truth._

"_I have come to care for her, a great deal." He spoke slowly. "She isn't only my fellow Warden, but also… My friend. My dear friend." _

_He looked down for a second, and Zevran looked away in response. Alistair did feel that he had to finish speaking his mind, now he had the chance._

"_I have never felt like this before, but I feel, I love her."_

_Another silence occurred, this time pressing and uncomfortable. Leliana's giggling in the distance only made Alistair feel more aware of their own lack of words. _

"_Then I know enough," Zevran eventually spoke._

_Alistair blinked in surprise, clearly expecting a different reply. "You do?"_

"_I do, dear templar. Clearly something has grown between you two and it would be wrong, if not unfriendly of me to try to convince her otherwise."_

_Alistair couldn't help but laugh, both out of relief and amusement. "Those are noble words, for an assassin. Remember that as my fellow Grey Warden, she will be under my watchful eye all the time."_

_Zevran nodded. "Then as long as she remains under your watchful eye, I will find the courtesy to hold my word." _

Alistair sat up as if been shocked.

Zevran's words chimed through his mind, but to his surprise there were more pressing matters to attend to; why did it not seem evening but dawn, and why did he stop?

He leaped off the carriage and found himself near the edge of a creek. The horses looked up at him before they continued their lazy grazing. It seemed he had fallen asleep, and the span had found it's own way to what they deemed a suitable place to rest.

Alistair quickly started to untie the bridles from the coach. How could he have ever been stupid enough to fall asleep, at the reins! By the Maker, there couldn't have been a less suitable time to lose his focus, especially with pursuers on his tail!

The Crows. Alistair immediately dropped the knot he was undoing and carefully looked around him. In the scarce morning light, all looked still. There was no sound, no movement. He was alone.

And he was alive, despite the distance that would have been bridged during his unforeseen sleep.

Muttering curses under his breath, Alistair yanked at the ropes holding the span together. He was a fool, a dumbfound, naïve, blundering fool.

He wasn't being chased; Zevran had just looked for an excuse to get rid of him, and he succeeded. Surely he didn't intend for Elissa to get hurt, but sending Alistair off on a prolonged escape route seemed all but convenient in the progressing morning light, more than a day's travel from where he had hauled up with the woman he loved. They both, loved.

Yelling a single loud profanity, Alistair succeeded at untying the span. Afterwards he took one horse by the bridle and climbed a second. The other two he left where they were, to return to their masters or stay in the forest until their end, for all he cared. Two horses would be sufficient, after he fully grasped the elf's devious plans.

"_Remember that as my fellow Grey Warden, she will be under my watchful eye all the time."_

"_Then as long as she remains under your watchful eye, I will find the courtesy to hold my word." _

Alistair profusely kicked his steed in the flanks, making an abrupt end to their mutual time of what he deemed underserved rest.

Zevran would pay for his treachery. 


	10. A prolonged struggle

**.10 A prolonged struggle**

Never had existence been an exertion.

If one would ever be conscious enough to experience death, this must have been it.

The smell of stale earth engulfed Elissa's nostrils, caking her lungs with the same dark liquid that glued her eyelids together. She could feel how her body sank down, yet the smell made her wonder whether she wasn't buried to rot.

The only thing that was certain, was that she just descended deeper.

_This must be it. _

But the moment passed. Eventually.

The situation didn't change; the suspense simply deteriorated over time, clearing her senses as far as the engulfing blackness allowed: Without anything to see there was simply more to hear.

Voices tolled through her head accompanied by an unfamiliar melody, like the words to a foreign ballad. A chorus of every whisper, every sentence she had ever heard. Elissa struggled to open her eyes, to see if someone was actually speaking to her, or whether she was haunted by another unpleasant dream. But her eyes remained stuck.

"_Elissa?"_

Only once had she been blind like this before, in the battle of her life and that of the century, and that she had survived.

She would be able to survive this nightmare, as well.

"_Elissa, wake up!" _

The words were spoken to her again and again, and Elissa wondered whether it was an echo of her mind or the voice of her love speaking into her ear. Finally she mustered the courage to answer, fought to answer, but the tarry liquid spilled into her mouth without mercy.

She tried to spit it out but instead she choked, yet she couldn't hear the sound of her own coughing. She only felt the heaving of her insides, rejecting the dark chill with painful fervor.

Then, a sudden freshness brushed across her cheek, accompanied by a familiar tune. Like a breeze, a reminder of a life that had once been.

The dew that used to stick to her skirts as she ran from Nan, when she wanted her to take a bath.

The drizzle that had covered her face as she looked over her shoulder and watched Highever burn.

The first snow that fell in the mountains after she reached the two-man camp, before entering the Deep Roads.

Was that where she was, far below the Frostback Mountains? Had her time come, because the taint ceased to spare her any longer? Was it the darkspawn's song luring her into these unknown depts?

"_Elissa, wake up."_

The voice had persisted, but only now Elissa understood it's urgency.

She tore her eyelids apart with all her might, and to her surprise she found that she had finally succeeded. While her eyes blinked against the brightness around her, her body registered in relief that she was free from the soot that had occupied her before. Was it gone, or had she imagined it? She tried lift her hand to feel her face for reassurance, but it seemed impossible.

"Finally, you are awake."

Upon seeing Zevran's face hover over hers, Elissa realized her situation couldn't be grave. She tried to open her lips to speak, to finally hear the sound of her own voice again, but it was impossible. The panic must have been written on her face, because Zevran quickly made a soothing gesture, an effort she hadn't seen from him before.

"You will be alright. You have assassinated the master, or should I say mistress of the Crows successfully. Unfortunately we found out too late you had been wounded by one of the guards, typically with a poisoned weapon."

Zevran looked away at this point, his eyes uncharacteristically hard. "The wound is not deep but it was sufficient to paralyze and nearly kill you, like the venom intended. Forgive me, I should have warned you."

His eyes remained distant as he continued: "The Crows rely on different sorts of poison and they always make use of one or the other, without exception."

He eventually looked back down at her, and his eyes had regained their usual charm. "You were very lucky."

The tenderness in his look warmed Elissa. He briefly stroked her hair with a smile around his lips. Then he stood up to carry off a bowl of water and a cloth he must have used previously to dab her face. He emptied it in a corner of the wooden shack that sheltered them from the spring rains.

"To make a long story short; when we found out you were poisoned it was only a matter of recognizing which venom they had used and collecting the right herbs for the antidote. Further healing will be a matter of time. The paralysis will wear off eventually, and relies greatly on sleep."

The elf returned with his pack, and before he kneeled down he covered Elissa in his own travelling blanket. When the worry didn't disappear from her tired gaze, he reluctantly added:

"You might wonder where Alistair is. To him befell the task to lose the carriage and with that, shake off any followers we might have acquired."

He focused on putting the thread he held through a needle and lifted up a shirt Elissa recognized as his own. He started to mend the sleeve that was torn during one of their recent travels, but before he got lost in his work he noticed that the worried look in Elissa's eyes hadn't disappeared.

"He will be back soon." He stated curtly. He then eventually sighed, and elaborated his answer in a more comforting tone. "You know he can hold his own, my dear Warden. You have to concentrate on your recovery now, and get used to the idea we might be alone for a little while longer. Sleep."

His last statement wasn't a command but more of a nudge down the right path. First Elissa hesitated to close her eyes, afraid of venturing into the dark again by herself. But after some time Zevran gently lifted up her hand and rested it on his knee. He smiled at her understandingly before he took up sowing again, humming a somehow familiar tune.

Elissa decided to find reassurance in her companion and let her worries fare, welcoming a now dreamless sleep.


	11. Confessions

.**11 Confessions**

Elissa felt cold, but not the unearthly chill that had haunted her before. She shivered as she opened her eyes, and watched the last daylight fade through the cracks of the wooden walls. All was silent, except the tapping of the rain outside.

The musty smell reminded her that she was in the safety of a shelter. Even in the hazy light her fever induced dreams now felt like a distant nightmare. Nonetheless, she physically felt the poison had taken its toll on her body, leaving her numb with a slight soreness she expected to mature before she would be willing to cope with it.

Warily she tried moving her fingers. When this proved possible, she lifted her arm, only to inevitably slap herself in the face with her limp hand. At least she found out her voice still worked; her lips escaped an audible groan.

Besides her something stirred. Not without effort, she rolled her head to the right. Next to her lay her elven friend, his hair unbraided and flowing like a golden waterfall across his face. Yet his eyes were open, watching her with an interest Elissa couldn't quite place. His gaze seemed complacent if not guarded, like a man troubled to speak his mind.

Elissa moved her lips, but found that forming words remained a struggle.

"My hair?" She eventually stammered, willing to comb her fingers through the now undoubtedly messed up do Zevran had worked on not long ago. Her hand remained listless at her side, but she managed a frown in dissatisfaction.

"If it had belonged to one of my better attempts, it sure does not by now. Pain? Nausea?"

Elissa tried to shake her head, but only managed to totter her chin. She sighed in exasperation.

Zevran had found his usual composure, his mouth pulled back in a confident smirk. "As I had hoped."

When he got up to collect water from the basin in the corner Elissa noticed he had shared her bed. And that he did so, without a shirt. This left her nonplussed; despite's Zevran's flirtatious behavior he had always held a gentlemanly distance, or at least he had after he had seemed to have given up impressing her as her potential lover. She could only conclude that the current situation had instructed otherwise.

When Zevran returned with a bowl of water, he stopped in his trot and showed another roguish grin. "It may be a surprise to you dear Warden, but I too require sleep after our recent ordeals. Or is it that you look rather besotted because you appreciate what you see?"

He laughed at Elissa's expression. Her eyebrow shot up with an ease that never suggested she had been poisoned to paralysis shortly ago. He then kneeled next to her and put the bowl aside before he spoke.

"I assure that you will feel better when you drink. Can you get up?"

Despite her successful attempt to support her weight on her elbows, she didn't manage to stay up by herself. Zevran had looked understanding, trying to leave her be when she seemed to succeed, but supporting her when he deemed it wise not to allow her to overexert herself. He pulled her up against his chest and cradled her with one arm, while the other reached for the bowl of water next to him.

Before he put the water to her lips, he met her eyes in the same expression that had puzzled her before. Feeling a little embarrassed to depend on help as much as she did, Elissa studied his face.

"What's wrong?"

Elissa felt these two words were the only ones she could manage to speak in her condition that covered every question she had.

Zevran didn't answer, but gently placed the edge of the bowl to her lips. His grip was firm yet careful, and he allowed Elissa only small sips of water. She was grateful for his expertise; drinking did make her feel better, even though at some point she ceased to swallow. When the water flowed from the corner of her mouth she managed a raspy giggle, joined by Zevran's soft chuckling.

"You're warm," Elissa spoke decidedly, while she found herself able to support the bowl with her hand, urging for more water. Zevran soon lifted the bowl from her flimsy grasp; she thought she had probably pushed her luck.

She looked up at him when he lifted her higher in his grasp. Unable to put into words what she felt she tried to put it into a single gaze; her thoughts, her worries, but most of all her gratitude.

She had expected an answer or an explanation, even bad news.

But not a kiss.

When his lips reached hers, he had taken her tighter in his grasp, almost lifting her entire body from the floor into his arms. He pressed up against her with a fervent urgency, like he wanted to take his claim on her now he had the chance.

The heat she had previously felt from his bare chest now fed her cold mouth, radiating comfortable warmth through her body. Although she longed to show him her appreciation, this was not the way she had intended it. Yet when she tried to pull herself away, the assassin's arms locked her deeper into his embrace.

His lips moved against hers in desperation, yet with the infamous experience he had always took pride in. Despite Elissa's struggle to push him away, he seemed determined to win her over.

Her thoughts raced through her mind, finding a solution to put an end to this, until she managed to lift her hand and dig her nails deep into his cheek. She scratched him raggedly, and that same instant his pressing mouth left hers. She fell into his lap, pushing the air right out of her lungs.

Elissa panted while she crawled away from her friend, who patted the newfound scratches with his fingertips but did not look displeased. When she finally slumped to the floor under the effort, she looked back at the spot she had left him, still on his knees on the bedroll. His eyes hadn't lost their perseverance, yet he looked apprehensive.

"You…"

This was all Elissa managed to blurt out, still out of breath under the physical endeavor she had just undergone.

"Elissa…"

Zevran spoke slowly, not at all apologetically but clearly looking for words. Elissa had wanted nothing more then to speak her mind, but all the strength had left her. All she could do was wait for him to continue while she caught her breath.

"It might seem, mischievous, to say the least, to seemingly take advantage of this situation."

Elissa had expected to read conflict or even pain on his face, but instead he seemed more like his old self than ever. The words rolled off his tongue with his usual careful flamboyancy, and he slowly moved towards her while he spoke.

"But I have to know, Elissa. I carried you in my heart since the moment I laid eyes on you, a woman of pride and power, yet blessed with mercy, and beauty beyond belief. I tried not to give in, but…"

He once again lifted her off the ground, this time in a standing position, meeting her eyes intently. Elissa was moved by his words, and for a moment, didn't know what to say. He stroked her hair profusely, soothing her in her ordeal, ignoring that he was the one who induced it.

"But a man can only hold his patience for so long, Elissa. Tell me. Do you care for me?"

He held her close, awaiting her answer in desperate anticipation. His gaze was piercing, reading every emotion on her face but unwilling to interpret them for what they were. Elissa sighed and struggled to find and eventually speak the words that would answer his question.

"I do, but,"

Her words were smothered by Zevran's lips. This time they lost their urgency, but instead they seemed pleading. Pleading for an answer he finally realized Elissa couldn't give him.

She pushed him away with all her might and she succeeded. Although Zevran wasn't willing to let go, whether it was from his grasp or to leave her unsupported, he eventually complied when Elissa managed to raise her voice.

"No Zevran!" She hoarsely spoke under the effort of talking and standing upright in her poor condition. She swayed in her footsteps but her eyes warned him to keep his distance. When she ceased to find steady footing, she sunk to the ground on her knees. Tears welled in her eyes, whether it was from exertion or sadness, she was not sure.

The moment spared her little time to consider.


	12. A daunting surprise

**.12 Revelations**

Neither of them had noticed how the door had opened. In the post stood Alistair, his hands clenched to fists at his sides as he assessed the words he had just overheard, the situation he had just overseen. Torn between anger and worry he looked at Zevran, and eventually back at Elissa.

His rained down physique made him stand out as an intruder, although Elissa had rarely been happier to see him. Nonetheless her relief was overshadowed by an intense worry for the measures he would take after observing the situation so silently.

Fighting back his rage Alistair kneeled down next to her and touched her cheek with quivering fingers before he spoke.

"Did he hurt you?"

His voice was shaky, whether it was only due to suppressed anger Elissa couldn't say. 

She slightly shook her head while she continued the struggle to catch her breath, and wished she could manage to put a hold to the tears streaking down her face. Unpleasant though the situation might be, both her lover and her friend would benefit more from her usual sensible attitude than they were from her current frail disposition.

Until she managed to pull herself together, the silence was pressing. Alistair repeatedly stroked her hair, shushing her when he met her gaze, yet his eyes remained unfocussed and confounded. Eventually he was the one to break the tension.

"Don't you have anything to say?"

Elissa was already trying to speak, trying to explain, before she realized his words weren't directed at her.

"Nothing that you could not guess yourself, ser Templar."

Zevran's tone was abhorrent, dispatched as he seemed to gather his belongings. Elissa noticed that the shirt he had carefully mended earlier still lay next to her bedroll, before he snatched it up and pulled it over his head.

"Your lips on the love of my life left little to the imagination, nor did her pushing you away!"

He stood up and stared at the elf in fury, his body trembling under the effort to keep himself together. Unwilling for the situation to get out of hand, Elissa tried to keep him to a halt. His calf easily slipped through her numb fingers as he approached Zevran until they were near nose to nose.

The latter acted unimpressed, but Elissa noticed the familiar reserved look in his eyes, even as he cockily stretched his neck to escape Alistair's eyes without giving ground.

"And I see she even had to fend your sorry arse off with her nails, what kind of a man are you!"

Alistair harshly wiped his hand across the elf's cheek, leaving a crimson streak across his jaw. He seemed determined to build up his rage, willing for the situation to escalate. It looked as if Zevran wouldn't provide him such chance, until he sneeringly replied:

"The man that would be laying with your woman if only you would have taken a little longer."

That was all it took for Alistair to land his balled fist on the elf's already bleeding cheek. Amazingly enough he staggered under the cracking blow but managed to stay up, although he heavily relied on a nearby beam to do so. When he didn't seem to prepare to start a counter attack, Alistair yelled furiously:

"There weren't any pursuers, it was a trick! You tricked me!"

To Elissa's surprise Zevran's blank look turned bewildered, an emotion that soon changed into agitation.

"You say there were not? That is impossible."

He dropped his pack and cautiously peeked through one of the larger cracks of the wooden walls, ignoring Alistair's aggravated look. When he eventually pulled Zevran's shoulder to demand rectification he did not meet his eyes, but immediately drew his weapons from the pack at his feet.

Instinctively Alistair reached for his own belt, only to find it empty. They had travelled light and his only weapon got lost during their escape from Val Royaux. When the elf handed him his own longsword he took it from him in surprise, but wielded it with fiery determination. Zevran ignored him without effort.

"You thought none of the Crows would pick up the chase after murdering their master?"

Alistair seemed unwilling to listen, and did not lower his weapon. His face did show an unmistakable wondering, as did Elissa's before she made another attempt to get up on her feet.

"Did I not warn you in advance the contract might be lost, but that those left of the leader's confidants might seek revenge for undermining their reign? A matter that should not be considered lightly?"

Alistair looked at the sword in his hand, contemplating whether to settle the discussion there and then or to take the elf's daunting words into account. Against Elissa's expectations, he slowly followed Zevran's sharp gaze.

Was it true then?

Their eyes rested at the entry of the shack. Unfortunately, the brief wait they underwent didn't go in vain.

Unceremoniously the door flew open, revealing nothing but the rain stricken forest around them. Yet from unsettlingly close range sounded a calm voice in a familiar accent.

"Zevran, old friend. Despite chasing your own agenda, I hear you have not forgotten our ways just yet."


	13. Caught

**.13 Caught**

The wind furiously whipped at the shack, strengthened by the draft the now opened door provided. Besides the lashing rain and the dim lit forest there was nothing to be seen. Nonetheless, Zevran seemed to have made out enough to address their enemy accordingly.

"Tabor, what brings you to the outskirts of Val Royaux? I would have called it a pleasant surprise, if only it were so."

The elf's voice sounded charming as ever, but his stance remained low and watchful. When the intruder used a single stride to slip into the shelter Zevran twirled one of his daggers in his hand, like Elissa had seen him do many times when battle approached. Still slumped to the ground, she wished she would be able to get up, or at least have a weapon of her own to confide in. The stakes had suddenly changed from bad to worse.

The man was cloaked but had made an effort into revealing his empty belt, showing them his opened palms has he casually paced the secluded space. Entering their defense unarmed didn't only seem a mockery, but also a threat. His confidence could only mean one thing; Tabor was not alone.

Unwilling to remain close to the thin walls of the shack, Elissa slowly moved more towards the middle of the room. Inconspicuous as her matters were, it did derive a ridiculing smile. When Alistair deliberately paced in front of her, Tabor seemed willing to ignore their tactical shifting and directed his word to Zevran.

"I was here to enjoy the festivities, of course. That was, until our mistress was murdered. But since you took part in that I take it is useless to elaborate."

He pulled back his dripping hood, revealing a withered yet handsome face, adorned by black and grey-streaked curls. The smirk he carried did not only remind Elissa of Zevran; every one of the Antivan Crows seemed to be able to sport a similar nonchalant expression. Tabor's changed only the slightest when he continued.

"You seemed such a promising pupil, Zevran. May I ask what had come into you to change your loyalties?" 

Zevran smiled at the ground, but chose not to provide an explanation. "It is hardly important now, Tabor. May I ask, how did you find us?" 

Tabor's eyebrows shot up in surprise, yet he answered without hesitation. "It was simple. A speeding carriage at night is as easily noticed as it is followed, yet we were sidetracked when we lost it in the woods. Were it not for this man's, ah, unsubtle method of retreat, riding the same way back and disappearing from the path right in front of our eyes, I doubt if we would have found you."

"Unfortunately there are still those who underestimate the order," Zevran spoke while he shot Alistair a sideway glance. Elissa all the while stared ahead into the falling night, detecting the unnatural sources of movement in the shrubbery around them. She halfheartedly considered crawling towards Zevran to take one of his daggers to silence the urge to be able to defend herself, until Tabor's derisive voice filled the room once more.

"Certainly, but despite this man's poor choices I have to compliment you on your choice of refuge. We would have never suspected you to do otherwise but ride the coach to the harbor and make your escape there."

Alistair meanwhile seemed to have grown impatient by the change of pleasantries on behalf of his mistakes. Feeling that the situation was out of their hands, he glared at Zevran.

"It only figures that you'd like to chat up with your old mates sooner or later. What about properly introducing us while you're at it?" 

"But of course," The elf spoke, seemingly missing the sting in the templar's words, "This is Tabor de la Mancha, famed for his precise aim in close combat and one of the remaining elders amongst the Antivan Crows. As you can imagine we are not usually favored with a generous lifespan; it is a risk that comes with the job."

"Your words do me no justice, Zevran Arainai. I would hope to be remembered for more than that, despite how it will prove a key point during my short stay here."

Before he continued he smiled menacingly at the elf before he averted his eyes. Then he looked down at Elissa, who had managed to sit on one knee, still swaying under the physical burden she had endured.

"And this must be Elissa Cousland, the culprit of our problems. I have to say, I imagined you with more eminence. But I do have to be fair, taking your current position into account. I see you are now one of many who befell to the effects of our poisons?"

When he slowly started to move toward her, though seemingly unthreatening, Alistair took a step forward to obscure his way.

"Ah, then you must be her noted love interest, the bastard prince. If you would have dedicated your lives to anything less daunting than chasing darkspawn you would have made quite the royal pair, I'm sure."

Still fed by his anger from previous events Alistair threw caution in the wind when he physically held the Crow to a halt. "That is one step too far," He spoke through his gritted teeth while he drew his sword between the two of them, forcing him back without room to attempt otherwise.

Immediately an arrow whistled past his ear, singing as it stuck to one of the wooden boards behind him. Elissa's sharp intake of breath was accompanied by the sound of her shuffling feet as she heaved herself up, although she was not nearly ready for combat.

As she staggered in her footsteps she seemed unsure of what to do, unsure of what she would be able to do in both body and mind. Tabor looked at her with an expression that could only be described as a mixture between disbelief and disappointment before Zevran averted his attention.

"So we have assassinated the leader of the Crows and yet you are here, despite how the price on Elissa's head is lost. I take you are not too pleased about the decease of your mistress?"

"On the contrary, it has given room for new opportunities." Tabor spoke casually, although the newfound light in his eyes revealed a higher stake than this voice intended to share. "I take you do realize this the reason for my visit, no?"

Zevran was silent for a moment, but eventually answered conformingly.

"I have to say it did not come to mind before you mentioned it earlier. As one of the mistress' confidants you do have a fair shot at leadership yourself, I envisage. The respect and experience you have gained over the years will certainly be beneficiary when making your stand in front of the counsel."

"Now your words flatter me, what an enlightening change from when I just arrived." Tabor sedately exclaimed. "But I am afraid you do me too much honor. My advancement will only bring me so far."

Tabor started to slowly pace around the limited space in the wooden shack, while Alistair remained his effort to keep the distance between the Crow and Elissa as wide as possible.

"As being the eldest present in Val Royaux during the assassination of late mistress Adriana, my position would be settled if I would bring the head of the one who ended her reign."

The words hit both Elissa and Alistair like thunder, leaving them silent in anticipation. Alistair's grip around his sword tightened, yet the stray arrow that had nearly hit him earlier proved that his stance would be folly. He looked sideways at Zevran, looking for help despite their recent differences, but to his surprise he had remained as calm as he had become earlier.

"I see your point." The elf spoke thoughtfully. "Yet you seem to forget that presenting her in front of the counsel alive to do with her as they wish, would certainly make a more vigorous impression."

Alistair almost dropped his weapon before the elf had finished his sentence. Despite how he loudly exclaimed his disbelief, the discussion continued without pause.

"On a second thought, I believe you are right," Tabor spoke with content in his voice. "But should I believe you will allow me to progress in this plan without your resistance?"

Now it was Zevran who met the Crow in disagreement. "Recent events have shown Elissa is not willing to offer me a reason to remain in her company any longer."

Elissa's eyes widened as the elf spoke. The strength she had managed to hold in her legs had already faded, yet now she sank to the floor as the last of her hope had fled. A feeling of hurt soon made place for intense despair. Despite how their friendship had unraveled into something more fragile in less than the blink of an eye, she had never expected him to simply discard her. Not now, and not ever. Had he not been her friend, despite how he had longed for something more? Had her trust in the assassin who wanted to join her cause indeed been misplaced?

"But," Zevran continued as he cautiously approached Tabor, "That does not mean I have other interests at heart."

Zevran slipped past Tabor and stepped into the fading light, smiling when he found several rugged men closing in on him while he continued his casual strut.

"Was it not I, who managed to track down the mistresses' whereabouts? Have I not infiltrated into the Warden's inner ranks and earned her trust?"

Although the Crows who had earlier lay hidden in the shadows surrounded the elf, he had obviously piqued their interest. Despite their alarming numbers and stance, Zevran confidently met their gazes, taking his time to press his point on them individually before he continued.

"You are right, Tabor. Maturity and skill alone does not earn you respect. Actions do. Leading the frontier army at the gates of Denerim against the blight, does. Showing willingness to share the riches my culling with the Grey Wardens have gotten me, does."

Zevran again looked at the responsive faces of the Crow spectators around him and smiled at Tabor.

"I think everyone here would agree I would make just a fine a leader, if not a better one, than you would."


	14. A life at stake

**.14 A life at stake**

Tabor had followed the elf in his footsteps and now looked around, admitting defeat as it glared back at him through the eyes of his kin. Assembling the serviceable Crows in Val Royaux had been easy after word had spread the mistress had not only been among them, but had also found her death at the hands of Elissa Cousland.

Convincing them to support him in his newfound leadership had proved an equally simple task. Every assassin then present in Orlais had taken the opportunity to show their loyalty to the new suitor without hesitation.

That is why he should have known they would just as easily cast their allegiance aside. Especially when the infamous Zevran, risen from oblivion, promised them a share in his accumulated riches for their support at that very moment, and if necessary at the counsel and beyond. The elf had turned the stakes, proving to be an immediate threat.

Tabor's smile started to fade as the grins at the faces of his treacherous retainers broadened. What would stop them from clearing him out the way of their newfound path, right there and then?

Zevran had crossed his arms and had even put his daggers in his belt. Having his back turned at the group of armed Crows, he was the spirit of confidence as he smiled at Tabor in victory. The latter sighed, before he decided to draw his final card.

"I propose a duel."

The menacing collection of men behind Zevran laughed in a demeaning manner, expecting their new front man not to accept a senseless request to parlay. When he spoke, his answer surprised them all.

"Until one of us finds death."

Tabor raised his eyebrows in bafflement, and besides his appreciation for a last chance in the game he had dealt himself, he respected Zevran for this unexpected act of honor.

"Certainly. And what about the woman?"

Zevran's look momentarily lost it's triumph. He briefly glanced over his shoulder before he turned around and walked up to the door of the wooden shack, rain streaking down on him as he laid his eyes on Elissa who had remained collapsed on the floor. Then he threw the door shut and locked it with it's metal bolt.

"The winner will do with her as he pleases."

~.~.~.~

The two opponents had taken their time to exchange witty pleasantries, this time accompanied by an occasional clatter of steel against steel as they audibly scouted the barrens of their defense.

Eventually, the boisterous laughter the spectators provided changed into excited exclamations and hisses. And not without reason. De la Mancha, scarred though as he were and despite slightly limping from the hip, proved vivid and capable as ever.

Zevran soon found out the rumors about the fidelity of his aim were not exaggerated; every time he left an opening in his own resistance to strike the grey-streaked man had lashed out at him vigorously, aiming for his flanks. When the effort of holding his opponent at distance started to take it's toll on the elf he decided to dawdle no longer.

Heaving his daggers to strike in a flashing blow Tabor had no choice but to parry. As he did, Zevran disarmed him within the blink of an eye. Leaving his sword to fly through the clearing, the elf dropped his own knife to grab the man's dagger hand. Forcing the weapon to it's wielders throat as he knifed his own into his opponent's abdomen, he finally felt the life he longed to take slip through his fingers.

It didn't take long for the Crow to drop to the ground, gurgling profusely before he drew his final breath.

As the aspiring leader pooled in his own blood he made way for a new master. Zevran pulled the torn undershirt over his head, ignoring his battle wounds and wiping the blood from his hands before he degradingly threw the heap of cloth on top of the corpse at his feet. He then raised his arms in triumph, allowing his followers to cheer in his victory, before one of them yelled.

"The prisoners! She's gone!"

A sullen looking man stood in the door opening of the shack, revealing a large gap in the wall at the opposite side. It was obvious how they had made their escape during the commotion of the battle.

As the dumbfound silence held on, Zevran heard the slightest noise from the distance. When he stared down the darkened path, he saw a horse with two riders. The animal shuffled it's feet eagerly, but the man at the reins held still. The woman in the front of the saddle was the only one who looked back before the steed was urged to canter towards the main road.

Despite the whipping rain and the falling night, Zevran ceased to miss the fury ridden glance Elissa had rested upon him.

"There they go! After them!" The same man had called, as if to rectify his mistake of finding their captives gone.

"No," Zevran spoke deliberately. The Antivan Crows around them held halt, eager to pursuit but obeying without question.

"I will get to her later."


	15. Clarity

**.15 Clarity**

Despite their mutual recent ordeals both Alistair and Elissa had managed to make their escape a lasting one.

Determined to avoid the capitol where they had undoubtedly been recognized and searched for, they successfully counted on the hospitality of the inn they had resided earlier. Shocked but somehow fascinated by the story they procured when asked for an explanation about the absence of their elven companion, the matron had offered them a bed free of charge and two fresh horses to continue their journey as soon as Elissa's condition permitted it.

Despite how the innkeeper had offered to send anyone asking for them off on a wild goose chase to the harbor of Val Royaux, neither of the Wardens rested easily enough to remain there longer than for the night. After the matron sensed their eagerness to travel along she had kindly offered them a change of clothes and a fill on their reserves. Elissa had gratefully accepted, but not before she had promised her to pay her back one day.

Although she still felt weak she proved to be able to ride by herself. The open road ahead of them temporarily fed her stamina, and they were able to pass Val Chevin that same day. It wasn't until they had reached the vicinity of Cumberland that her strength started to wane once more.

If Alistair hadn't noticed her sagging down in the saddle she would have surely rode until she had fallen off her horse. Elissa seemed determined to create a vast distance between her and her former friend as much as her endurance allowed.

The single time Zevran's name was brought up a shadow had crossed her eyes, and she had insisted on continuing their travel immediately to increase the separation even further. It was only then that Alistair realized she too felt intensely betrayed by their former companion, now reunited with his band of criminals. It lead his own hatred to a newfound high, which fed his ideas to decide never to let Elissa Cousland out of his sight again.

Forced to take a prolonged rest in the Nevarran city, Alistair had sought out the Mages' College for help. Despite his templar background he hoped that the mages would be willing to aid them if they required so. Upon the mention of Elissa's name, the savior of Ferelden and the one who prevented the right of annulment on it's Circle of Magi, they were immediately provided with the means necessary to prolong their stay.

Being one of the head scholar's guests did not only prove convenient to Elissa's healing rite, but also to contacting the outside world: Old enemies or no, Alistair soon enjoyed the advantages of being near the most resourceful mages of the known world.

After Alistair reluctantly accepted word from queen Anora on the culling darkspawn threat near Amaranthine, he had also received word from one of the Warden mages in Weisshaupt.

He headed back to Elissa in the College's guest housing with great reluctance. Although a promotion to Warden Commander of Ferelden should have been reason for joy for Elissa, he doubted that she would be happy to hear that it was only he who was called to Weisshaupt Fortress to debrief his recount on the blight. Nor was he.

As the new Warden Commander, Elissa would be required to return to Ferelden. While she would set course to Highever by ship as they had already arranged, he alone would have to travel the imperial highway north as soon as possible and would only be allowed to return when his services in the Anderfels were no longer needed. Despite his plan to unite with his love in Amaranthine as soon as possible, only time could tell how soon that would be.

Occupied by this daunting prospect Alistair barely noticed the tugging at his sleeve as he walked the streets of the city. When he looked down in surprise a boy quickly squealed his message before he ran off.

"The master of the Crows seeks to parlay with you, Ser. The Golden Keg inn!"

~.~.~.~

When Alistair had entered the tavern, he was surprised to only find one familiar face. He awkwardly slipped onto the bench opposite of the elf, demonstratively propping his two hander against his knee.

He had expected to find Zevran sitting in front of him, though he looked quite different from when they had parted ways. Within the span of a week the elf had acquired a new tan colored set of leather armor and gleaming new weapons to match. Only his gloves looked weathered, and despite their matching make and color Alistair easily recognized them as his old pair.

He snorted when he had noticed the gift Elissa had presented him during their travels, but the elf did not respond. Instead he waved the waitress over for a refill on his ale. Alistair sternly passed on his offer for a drink yet he couldn't help but feel confused; leaving recent events out of the equation, it felt like they could have been resting at an inn like they had done not so long ago, when the three friends had taken up stopping the Crow threat together.

"I got to say I'm surprised you haven't ambushed me yet," Alistair spoke derisively as the elf drank deeply from his tankard. "The messenger boy articulately mentioned 'the master' of the Crows. Or has your burly band of bandits abandoned you already?"

Zevran put his ale down before he spoke, but ceased to meet the templar's eyes.

"On the contrary. They are posted at the outskirts of the city, not taking the few that insisted on keeping out a watchful eye into account. Their loyalty is most admirable."

"Too bad yours is not." Alistair spoke snidely.

Zevran now looked up from his ale, but chose to ignore him before he spoke again.

"Since word of my unexpected coup had spread, my followers among the Crows have only increased. But in practice, I am not the new master yet. I have yet to call a meeting with the remaining elders, but taking my current support into account, it seems only a formality."

He held silent to offer Alistair room to comment. When he did not, he continued with his usual careless charm. Alistair noticed that the audible accent he had carried since he had first met the elf had grown thicker over this short period of time.

"Despite the growing allegiance I am not worried they will turn against me. My travelling with your order has apparently made me a household name within the Antivan Crows, a legend, so to speak. I will become the first master known amongst his men, not hiding in the shadows but ruling just and dividing the riches accordingly."

Before he finished Zevran grinned roguishly. "With a little extra to cover my general expanses, of course."

Alistair crossed his arms and sat back as far as the cramped seat permitted him. For a moment he just stared at the elf, until his face filled with mockery.

"So you've got everything your heart has always wanted."

Zevran sighed, but did not elaborate.

"I guess it does seem so."

"Everything, except for the girl."

Zevran chuckled and took his time to take another hefty swig of ale.

"I would have surely liked to count her among my victories."

"Then you're out of luck," Alistair spoke scornfully. "If you think I hate your guts after what you pulled me, try getting her sympathy."

The humor instantly disappeared from the elf's face. He softly placed his tankard back at the table.

"As I deserve. Yet, I will atone."

Alistair almost jumped up from his seat after the elf finished his sentence. He quickly sat down when he noticed he would be drawing unwanted eyes if he'd drag the elf across the table by his collar. He had to steady his breathing before he managed to speak his mind.

"You don't honestly think I will, that _she _will allow you near her ever again? By the Maker, you forced yourself upon her when she was too weak to even tell you off!"

Despite how the days had passed, the scratch marks were still visible on Zevran's cheek. He covered them with his hand shamefully, or maybe affectionately, Alistair wasn't sure.

"My new, ah, occupation will require me to retreat to Antiva. Despite the occasional travelling I don't expect to ever see her again."

"Yes, drown yourself in your work for all I care, I bet there are plenty of other women to rape back home."

This is when the elf pulled his dagger. In a flash he had pinned it between Alistair's outstretched fingers, into the table. The blade sang as it vibrated in the heavy oaken surface, yet nobody of the guests seemed to have noticed the sudden gesture.

"I did no such thing, and I never will. My timing was unfortunate, my ways unorthodox. But as I told her, a man can only take as much."

Despite how Alistair had grabbed his sword by the hilt, he allowed Zevran to contemplatively retrieve his dagger and put it away. He seemed filled with determination, yet his grief stricken face told the templar more than his words did.

"If it were up to me I would have stayed with her, or left her side at her command. Yet the stakes have changed, and opportunities arose that should not have gone untouched."

Alistair opened his mouth to object, but Zevran intervened.

"Surely you understand, as it is one of our mutual interests. When I have secured my position as the master of the Crows, no assassin will hunt her, ever again."

Silence followed as the words sank in. Alistair sighed, and then once again in relief. Zevran could easily withhold any contract on her head, or maybe even provide her protection. But it made sense. Elissa's safety from the Crows would finally be ensured as she was in good grace with it's new master.

Zevran had used the moment to silently empty his tankard. Wiping the foam from his mouth he stood up, but turned around before he moved towards the door.

"Do you truly think I would have aspired to rule the order Elissa had helped me escape so shortly ago? To trade my newly acquired freedom just like that?"

Alistair looked at him dumbfound, unable to respond.

"You owe me nothing, Ser templar," The elf spoke with determination, "But I would only devotedly retreat to Antiva if I knew there would be someone who would be able to tell her the truth, because I realize at this time and place, she herself would not accept it."

Zevran then turned around and made way for the door. Just when he pulled up his hood to cover his face from the spring rain, he felt a hand on his shoulder.

"Thank you." Alistair spoke as they both stepped into the dreary afternoon. "I don't…. I don't want to say everything's forgiven, because it's certainly not…"

Zevran nodded but remained still, appreciating the unexpected gesture all the same.

"But this is a step in the right direction of forgiveness in my book."

The elf allowed Alistair's hand to slip off his shoulder as he walked into the drizzling rain. Before they parted ways, Zevran turned around and spoke his final concern.

"If only it were in hers, Alistair."

He then pulled his hood down over his eyes and disappeared into the bustle of the city.

_This is the end of this story! I hope you enjoyed it; please remember to leave a comment or a review, I really appreciate them and it's those that keep me inspired to write!_

_This is the first story not entirely based on ingame events but I do say it tastes like more. I will have to wait what DAII will bring, but as this point it doesn't sound like a bad idea to write more stories like these, if a plot comes to mind. Let me know what you think! _


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